the science of kissing at midnight
by sad-goomy
Summary: Gladion is inadvertently shaking up the group's New Year's tradition with the help of the Alolan Champion, a couple drinks, and the scientific method.


**A/N: A little something fluffy for the holiday season. Hope you all enjoy, and a big thank you to Sans_Virtuosity for being a beta-reader and helping polish this up. Happy New Year everybody!**

* * *

It's not that Gladion minds New Year's Eve parties, it's just that he's grown more than accustomed to the routine of them.

Ever since Lillie, Hau, and Moon turned eighteen, the quartet have spent New Year's Eve at the same dive bar in Malie City that offers happy hour deals and tacky decorations all evening-long. Four years later, Gladion can predict the course of the night down to the minute.

First, the other three will complain that he didn't dress festively enough (which is true but beside the point). Then, they'll buy their first round of drinks and retreat to a table in the corner, until Hau spots some random group of people he barely knows, at which point he will introduce everyone and make ten more friends in the span of an hour. Once Moon is on her second drink, she'll reveal her charming side, at which point half the group they've joined will fall in love with her – another drink and she'll be unabashedly flirting with some schmuck. At this point, Lillie will still be shy, so Hau will take it upon himself to include her in every conversation until the two break off and become friends with just about everyone at the bar. Gladion will then be left to sit and drink and make occasional small talk with some acquaintances, keeping an eye on everyone else. Then the countdown to midnight rolls around and he'll reunite with Hau and Lillie, counting down with them and then awkwardly turning to his drink as his best friend and sister kiss and Moon makes out with her target.

As much as he loves being the chaperone, he's starting to think the pattern is getting a bit stale.

He even says so to Moon at around 11:30, when Hau and Lillie have customarily broken off from the group and Moon has just settled on who she's going to kiss at midnight.

The Alolan Champion blinks – she's what Gladion can only describe as an endearingly slow and deliberate drunk – as she replies, "Are we really that predictable?"

Gladion shrugs, taking a sip of his third drink and letting it warm his chest. "Suppose we are," he mutters, not having a much better response. His eyes drift to the guy Moon's spent the past hour flirting with, adding in a snarky stage-whisper, "Though you've lowered your standards this year."

Moon chokes on her drink, causing Gladion to snicker as she smacks his arm. "I'm not flirting with him," she snaps, though she can't hide the giggle as she adds, "And be nice. He's pretty cute."

"He's not your type," he responds, vaguely aware that the young man they're talking about can absolutely hear him; from the glare he's sending Gladion's way, he isn't appreciating the conversation. The Aether president finds that he doesn't mind, and he gets a kick out of keeping the guy away from his best friend. Something about the way he looks at her in her dress makes his stomach roll.

She raises a brow, leaning in close enough that he can smell her perfume. "Oh yeah? And just what is 'my type'?"

He takes a moment to think, taking another sip of the brown liquor concoction in his hand before responding bitterly, "Someone who's at least intelligent enough to match your wit."

A strange bloom of pink washes over her cheeks, one that he can't look away from. It melts into the freckles on her nose and cheeks, and it stirs something in him that he quells by finishing his drink. "You really think I'm witty?"

"Of course I do," he scoffs, leaning against the bar and disposing of his empty glass. "It's obvious."

"Not when you never compliment me, it isn't."

"I compliment you plenty."

"You compliment my battling," she laughs as she downs the last of her drink, her empty cocktail glass joining his on the bar. "Sometimes I think you might secretly hate me," she tells him as she rolls her eyes, stifling another laugh.

"Absolutely," he drawls, leaning back on the bar and surveying the rest of the party, "I secretly hate one of the most driven, intelligent, and empathetic people that I know. You got me." She gives his arm another smack, causing his brows to shoot to the ceiling and his head to whip to look at her. "What?"

The blush has grown deeper on her cheeks, and he realizes he's the cause of it. Gladion isn't quite sure how to feel about that, but before he can think too long on it she stammers, "Why are you such a nice drunk? When you're sober, it's always a damn riddle with you, and then you have a couple drinks, start tossing compliments left and right, and I can't tell how sincere you are."

It's his turn to blink, looking down at the young woman before him and realizing with mild horror that she's been left second-guessing for years on end.

"I always mean it," he mumbles after a long minute of the two staring at each other. Some part of him is shocked that it hasn't come up earlier with them, and some other part is still more surprised that for as many years as he's known her, Moon continues to be a mystery to him.

Her shoulders drop and a vulnerability she rarely shows bubbles up to the surface. He's never been more aware of how much shorter she is than him until now. "Really?"

"Really," he parrots, and because it's nearing the end of the night and he's had just a little too much to drink, he adds with no hesitation, "That's why it annoys me when you always grab onto some complete idiot for the night."

Moon tilts her head, a laugh escaping her. "Well it didn't bother you enough to stop it."

"It's not my place." He shrugs, content to leave it at that.

She nods, her eyes landing on the clock to see that they have another twenty minutes before the countdown starts. "Another round?" she asks him, before a self-deprecating smirk appears on her face. "Or does that go against our little New Year's pattern?"

"Never been one for patterns, and we've already broken it, considering we're talking," he tells her (and he doesn't tell her that he prefers this, prefers spending the night laughing with her). He watches her order, and they let a comfortable silence wash over them as their drinks are made. She passes him his glass, their fingers brushing as he jerks his chin towards where her chosen boy of the evening has left a vacant spot. "Looks like you've missed your shot for a kiss at midnight."

He misses how she observes him before she holds up her glass, catching his attention as she proposes, "A toast to change? And going after someone worth my time?" Their glasses connect and they each take a drink, smiling at each other before Moon diverts her eyes to the crowd at the bar, placing a finger to her lips in thought. "If we really want to spice things up," she says, eyebrows waggling and voice dripping with a combination of good intentions and bad ideas, "We should find someone for you to kiss."

"No thank you," he grimaces, though the unpleasant expression stands no chance against her laugh; it's soon replaced by a lopsided smile that he's grown used to wearing around her.

"What, you no longer trust my taste?"

"Just don't see the point of it." When she looks like she's on the verge of a question, he adds, "This whole midnight kiss tradition – what's so special about it? It's scientifically no different than kissing at any other point in time."

"The science of kissing? I'm swooning," she chides, spotting the carnation pink taking over his cheeks. She hides her mischievous smile by taking a sip, but the spark in her eyes gives her away all the same.

He snaps, "You know what I mean. We're both rational people, so you can admit there's nothing but hype and fantasy around it."

"Maybe," she hums, her finger slowly circling the rim of her glass. He watches her as he takes another drink, her gaze connecting with his. "Or maybe we're not kissing the right people."

The only reason he looks at her lips is because of bad timing, he reasons.

"You've had three years to try and still can't get it right," he teases, forcing his eyes to focus on the wall as he takes a drink. The clock stares back at him, and he realizes there's around ten minutes until the countdown to the new year begins.

"I'm getting closer," she says, though she has no evidence to back it up and instead takes a drink. He doesn't prod her further, instead trying to be subtle as his eyes scan the entire bar, brows furrowed in concern. She leans her elbows on the bar, chin resting on the palm of her hand as she drawls with an amused lilt, "Hau and Lillie went outside a little while ago."

"Wasn't looking for them."

She raises a brow, but Gladion keeps his frown of denial firmly in place. "You may not be a fan of patterns," she tells him, "But you're definitely a creature of habit. You make the same face whenever you're trying to keep an eye on someone, especially Lillie."

He bites his cheek. "I didn't know I was being studied."

"Of course, you're my favorite subject," she teases with a shameless wink, far too smug when he can't think of a response, and instead takes a drink to hide the flush taking over his pale features.

Still as much of a natural flirt as when we first met, he thinks as he wipes his mouth, And she knows it. Gladion considers telling her so, but she interrupts his thoughts when she asks, "So, how about we set up that experiment?"

"Which one?" He's not sure if it's the previous drinks slowing his thought process, or his denial of what she's no doubt about to suggest.

Her eyes flicker to the clock. "We have five minutes to find you someone to kiss. If you really want to prove there's no science to back up a New Year's kiss, then this is the sure-fire way to prove it."

"This is an insult to the scientific method."

She huffs, straightening and staring him down with such a determined fire that it forces him to swallow hard and listen. Holding up one finger, she says with a smirk, "Observation: it's a tradition to kiss when the clock strikes midnight on New Year's."

In spite of himself, he raises two fingers, only slightly embarrassed as he adds, "Question: Does this tradition actually impact the quality of the kiss?"

With three fingers in the air she laughs, "Hypothesis: If you kiss someone at midnight on New Year's, it exponentially increases the quality of that kiss."

He mirrors her gesture. "Alternative hypothesis: This is all just an excuse for drunk people to make out."

"Well, we need an experiment to analyze and draw our conclusions," she says, taking a sip from her glass, her eyes going to a corner booth at the other side of the bar before adding with a waggle of her brows, "And I see a couple possible test subjects for you." With a groan, he refuses to follow her gaze and instead takes a drink from his own glass, watching as she sizes up the group of young women, chewing her bottom lip in thought. "How do you feel about redheads?"

"I'm not doing this."

"Got it, no redheads. It's fine, the brunette also seems interested -"

"You're ridiculous," he chuckles, head hanging low with a frustrated blush.

When he looks back up at her, she's sighing, as if Gladion is being absolutely impossible. "For a 'rational person' you aren't very open to logic."

"I'm not open to your drunk logic."

"No fun," she whines, sticking her tongue out at him. He responds by pulling a face before they both take a drink, eyes going to the clock. Moon nearly chokes, eyes going wide as she tells him, "And now we have barely a minute to find you someone."

"You won't," he replies with a smirk that only grows wider at her scowl.

"Not with that attitude."

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning against the bar as he mutters, "Just give it up, Moonbeam."

10

As the rest of the bar begins to chant, she raises a brow, mirroring his smirk as they fuel each other's competitive spirit. "Well now you know I can't, Gladbag."

7

"Then what are you going to do?"

5

Her body shifts a hair closer, and the scent of her perfume clouds his senses once more.

4

"Improvise."

3

His brain can't quite process what's happening, yet he leans in all the same.

2

He opens his mouth to make a snarky remark, but she cuts him off in the best way possible.

1

He feels her soft lips on his, and the silk of her dress against his button-down, but most of all he feels the entire universe click into place. It's as if the very core of his life has finally shifted and settled into what it's meant to be.

She has one hand on his collar, pulling him impossibly closer, and another tangled in his hair; his hands travel to the sides of her face, gently holding her as though one wrong move will shatter the moment entirely.

And as the air fills with the sound of cheers about the new year and obnoxious party horns, they pull apart, eyes wide as the shock settles in.

"Why did you do that?" he marvels, somehow breathless.

Her lips part but no sound comes out. With a resigned shrug, she timidly offers, "For science?"

He realizes their arms are still around each other (and he doesn't want to move). With several revelations hitting his body at once, his brain is left to scramble. "Well, what's the conclusion?"

Slowly, her face morphs into an embarrassed smile, and as she leans her head against his chest to take a moment to laugh, he can no longer fight the grin tugging at his lips.

"Further research needed," she decides with a smirk, adding as she looks up at him, "But I think it's pretty safe to say I was right."

He looks at her, seeing his best friend and finally letting himself realize the extent of what she means to him. "I'd argue it's unclear if it was the tradition, or the person I kissed."

And just before she leans in to kiss him again, she whispers with the warmest smile he's ever seen on her, "Happy New Year, Gladion."

It's already the happiest one he's ever had.


End file.
